View full sizeJOHN C. WHITEHEAD, The Patriot-News, filePennsylvania's first lady Susan Corbett talks with residents staying at the Red Cross shelter in Harrisburg High School on Sept. 9.

And yet, for most people, life continues, even if it is a ragged caricature of what it was.

At the height of the storm, some of the people most affected by flooding turned to the American Red Cross for shelter and help.

The organization responded admirably, taking in those without homes, power, food or the ability to fend for themselves.

Today, the final storm shelter, at the First Church of God on West High Street in Middletown, is expected to close.

It’s been a home away from home to people for weeks, one of its large fellowship halls dedicated to storm relief efforts filled with cots, tables and the other pieces of life.

Outside, Joseph Shaw leans against one of the concrete support pillars outside of the church’s main door to the fellowship hall.

He just came off a shift at his job and is still wearing his Burger King uniform.

He closes he eyes, takes a drag from a Pall Mall cigarette and casts a wary eye on the conversation taking place around him.

He’s been in Red Cross shelters for three weeks now. First in Steelton then in John Harris in Harrisburg. When that shelter shut down, he moved with the aid workers to Middletown.

He’s one of about 30 people who were staying at the Middletown shelter on Tuesday. It’s the final Red Cross emergency shelter in the region.

Five months ago, Shaw had packed up his belongings in his car and moved to Middletown from Baton Rouge, La.

Since then he’s been living in a mobile home in Jednota Flats outside of Middletown. Most of the people still in the shelter were from the neighborhood, people on the edge to begin with.

His personal belongings, what he was able to rescue from his home, some clothes and a laptop, could fit in the back of his car.

“Keeping it in storage, in the cars and underneath the cot inside,” he said. “It’s all we got.”

He’s a couple of days away from what he hopes will be a semi-permanent apartment.

“Actually, I think it was a good thing,” he said. “A chance to start over.”

The details are somewhat sketchy, information on open apartments are like gold in this crowd. So is news of rental agencies that return phone calls or allow pets.

Shaw is among the lucky ones. He has a place to go when the storm last shelter closes its doors on Sunday.

Datron Matthews isn’t. She was homeless before the floodwater came, and there’s every indication she will be back on the streets next week.

She moved to Harrisburg almost a year ago to care for her mother, then things took a turn for the worse. When the Red Cross opened the shelter, she made her way there, looking for help.

She’s young and smart looking, with a slight Southern drawl from her native Georgia. Matthews was hoping to find a place to stay, somewhere where she can get her feet back underneath her, she said.

Unfortunately she’s fallen under what’s known as the four-week rule in Harrisburg. As a single homeless woman, she can only use local shelter services for four weeks out of a year.

Nor can she qualify for long-term transitional living, even if she has a job. It’s a Catch-22.

To qualify for transitional living, she has to be in a shelter. But Matthews cannot get into a shelter because she’s already used her four weeks. She can’t get a job because she’s homeless, and the circle continues.

Christina Lopez was among those trying to find a Matthews a place to go on Wednesday, with no luck. She sat on the front porch of the church, flipping through a phone book.

Lopez has also been staying with the Red Cross, whose aid workers have been helping people pick themselves up as best they can.

Now she’s part of the group that’s hanging out and hanging on as the days tick by.

It’s the afternoon, and the children are returning from school, parents from their jobs, or their full-time work, cleaning up what is left of their lives.

The can where they flick their spent cigarettes is also the village gathering place.

Almost everybody here smokes.

For the people staying here, it passes the time — something to do in between the endless phone calls looking for apartments, for insurance, for federal aid.

They trade good-natured jabs, watch their kids and talk about what they are doing. They pass along leads and try to help each other out as best they can.

“This is how we pass our time,” Shaw said. “We have our own little family.”

Related Stories

Featured Story

Get 'Today's Front Page' in your inbox

This newsletter is sent every morning at 6 a.m. and includes the morning's top stories, a full list of obituaries, links to comics and puzzles and the most recent news, sports and entertainment headlines.

optionalCheck here if you do not want to receive additional email offers and information.See our privacy policy

Thank you for signing up for 'Today's Front Page'

To view and subscribe to any of our other newsletters, please click here.